


set aflame

by dogmat



Series: snk drabbles [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Child Eren Yeager, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 04:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26347351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmat/pseuds/dogmat
Summary: When Eren was not being an immature child, brash, and with all the hotheadedness one can stuff inside his small body, he was, quite frankly, nothing. And when nothing ignited the ugly fury that laid waiting to be lit, there was an utter blankness that threw most people off.OrEren's first time killing someone
Series: snk drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914526
Comments: 1
Kudos: 77





	set aflame

**Author's Note:**

> A little something because I refuse to believe that a 9-10-year-old boy would coincidentally have a knife and stay rather level headed after killing two people.
> 
> Warning(s): pedophile? He's dead btw, and canon-typical violence. Eren stabs him and leaves him to bleed out because I absolutely do not know how else to kill the man.

When Eren was not being an immature child, brash, and with all the hotheadedness one can stuff inside his small body, he was, quite frankly, nothing. And when nothing ignited the ugly fury that laid waiting to be lit, there was an utter blankness that threw most people off. Before meeting Armin, the candle inside was rarely put aflame. It sat emptily and hollowly within the cave of anger, smothered by darkness, and the suffocating feeling of _nothing_ was all but a constant feeling.

Maybe that was why his body moved on its own accord that night.

Rarely did he return to the safety of his home after dark. Each step treaded over the familiar pavements in the golden light of the afternoon where the road still bustled with activity, but that was every season _but_ winter. As the biting coldness inched closer, and the sun stopped rising in its early times, he always lost himself in the moment, staring blankly at the sky, anticipating for _anything_ to happen. By the time the awareness of the setting sun dawned upon him, the streets were long since empty, and the sun had gone to sleep.

With the slightest shiver, he took a small step forwards, biting his lip to keep his teeth from chattering, and he even craned his neck forwards to savor the warmth from his scarf. He was lucky he was more focused on his surroundings than the piercing cold because he almost did not detect the footsteps that lumbered closer to him. Emerald green eyes sharpened at the near-soundless steps, taking note of how cautious whomever the individual behind him seemed to be, and if the person behind him noticed his hands silently shifting over to his pocket, they never faltered in their careful stride.

_It won’t last long_ , he thought with anticipation. He could _feel_ the person creep up closer… and closer… and that was when Eren broke in a run, the lumbering figure behind him followed, no longer attempting to be indiscernible.

_A monster._

He breathed in exhilaration. His fingers gripped the handle behind his back with a strange calmness, and his eyes _brightened_. The scarf was no longer hiding his mouth, and instead, it sat snugly beneath his chin, letting particles of his breath be regarded in the darkness of the alley he had run into. Eren waited patiently for the figure to appear. And he did. Stumbling into the dark alleyways with as much grace a drunken man can muster, the man panted heavily—not with tiredness—and his hands twitched towards the smaller boy. 

“Let me see you,” the man breathed. His voice rose an octave in excitement, “I want to see _all_ of you, little boy… I want to hear you… I—”

But Eren did not let the man finish. A thin hand shot out and embedded the blade into his stomach. One hand held the handle tightly, and the other leveled the blade, the palm on the blunt end of the knife, and _pushing_ it in further. The candles were ignited—and had been and for quite some time since he realized that the man was in fact, no passing person. The anger burned, scorching his insides and embracing him with a warmth that he never felt before, and the sound of the man below him rang like a symphony in his ears.

The man seemed to have a low pain tolerance. His body twitched, and his face was contorted in pain, looking uglier than he was before. His hands were fisted in a desperate move to ease the pain in his chest. 

It seemed that the man did not want to be discovered with how blood seeped out of the man's disgusting lips in an attempt to stay silent.

Eren used that to his advantage and harnessed the ugly flames of rage that flowed through his veins. He gripped the knife, pulling it out, and then plunged it right back into his body. This time, it was in a different place.

It was not long before the young boy stood in front of a corpse of a man. 

The man's eyes stared dully at the nothingness, his mouth open, and muscles slackened. He resembled a drunk sleeping man more so than a corpse. However, with one glance at the setting and his body, anyone would know what had happened.

The next day, the news of the dead man spread like wildfire, and Grisha stared at Eren silently with a knowing look in his grey-green eyes.

_The man should have never lived,_ Eren later explained, shrugging nonchalantly. The aftermath of the fire was all that remained in his body, and he felt nothing at the man's death.

And he certainly did not regret anything.


End file.
